


Late Nights; Early Mornings

by saltypercy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Percy is a Dork, SO MUCH FLUFF, he's so head over heels don't try to tell me otherwise, percabeth fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltypercy/pseuds/saltypercy
Summary: Probably the shortest Percabeth drabble that you will ever read, but it's Percabeth and it's fluff, what more could you want?





	Late Nights; Early Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff. That's all this is. Pure Percabeth fluff.

There was something that Percy loved about the late night and early morning cuddles he and Annabeth shared.  It could have been the fact that it was satisfying knowing she was right there, under his fingertips, or it could have been that he loved the way the scent of her shampoo filled his nose when he tucked her head under his chin.

It may have been that feeling he got when her hand went under his shirt to rub small designs into the soft but scarred flesh of his back.  The sensation of her pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple, the edge of his jaw, below his ear.

Or maybe it was just being with her.  Being alone and the tranquil sense that washed over him like a wave crashing into the shore.

Whatever it was, he loved it.

He loved the fact that he could lean down and press a kiss to her temple whenever he wanted. He loved that he could pull her face up to his, foreheads resting on each other’s, breath mingling, grey eyes staring into green, one thousand words being spoken without ever uttering a single syllable.  

He loved how she buried her head in the crook of his neck, her hands clutching his shirt.  He loved the way he could wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer, impossibly closer, to whisper sweet nothings in her ear about how much he loves her, how much he needs her, that she's his entire world and he would be lost without her.

And who's to say that he doesn't love when she gets more fiery, pushing his back to the bed and sitting on his stomach, leaning up to capture his lips with her own, expressing buckets of emotions at once.  How they could stay in this position for hours without wanting to take it further, not needing to take it further, to show each other how much they love the other. 

Maybe he also loves when she gives up the reigns, letting him take control.  Her hair splayed across the pillow, breathing a bit heavier than normal, as they break apart for air. The skin on her cheeks a bit flushed, her eyes locked on his, hands running through the black mess he calls his hair.  His weight being held on his elbows, one hand on her cheek, thumb running back and forth over the skin on her face.

So maybe it wasn't _always_ the cuddling that he loved.  He loved the other things too.  And one of his favorites was how she always seemed to melt back into him,  hands going around his waist and pulling herself in closer, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
